Tranquility
by warchiefsteph
Summary: In the late hours of the night, there is only so much a weary First Enchanter can do to protect his pupils from the tyranny of the Templars. Luckily for him, his ties to the Champion of Kirkwall help him through the night.


It was late, and he hadn't yet changed out of his robes.

Orsino's head was wracked with a splitting ache, his features twisted into desperate frustration as he lay his staff against the wall in defeat. He'd only just returned to his quarters after a heated dispute with the Knight Commander, one that had left them both red-faced and restrained, bellowing at each other from opposite sides of the room.

The subject, a young girl no older than twelve, had been the cause of the row; young and full of life, the mage had a fire to her that could not be extinguished, but the Circle steadily drove that flame into dying embers. Strong willed as she was, the girl–named Lara–had always inspired her fellow pupils to believe in their own freedom, and even as the leash on the mages tightened with each passing day, she would not let them fall. Just the thought of her caused a smile to tugged at his lips, and Orsino was reminded fondly of another woman, a mage just as spunky as Lara, and just the thought made him wonder if all hope was lost.

Still, she had tried to escape, feeling into the mage underground the first moment she could as her own strength began to fail her. As young as she was, Orsino couldn't help but to feel proud of her, the way she fought and inspired, and yet fearful for her at the very same time. It was earlier in the week that she had been caught, and now she awaited trial in the Gallows, locked away, hands bound in such a way where her magic would do no harm, nor allow her to escape the Templar's clutches. Tranquility had been mentioned; present at the proceedings of the evening, it came as a slight relief to the First Enchanter that it was not Meredith who suggested the punishment, but the mere thought of a child being made Tranquil was enough to ignite an anger within him that fought for her life.

Orsino could only remember Maud, so many years ago. Her suicide, her final words to him, constantly haunting him. He could have done something, anything, and he still felt the guilt of her death weigh heavily on his shoulders. This is no life. Even now, he could hear her voice ringing in his ears, and as her words repeated over and over again, his thoughts set on Lara and her plight, it was that which motivated him to further fight for those under his care.

It had nearly come to blows; Orsino would have been happy to throw his fist against her smug face, but he had been detained before he could even blink an eye. It would have hardly been a fair fight, regardless if he had been able to strike a blow. He had been outnumbered, ten to one, and even if his flames had been able to protect him briefly, Templars had their way to work around a mage's magic, and no doubt he would have been deemed a danger then and there. Perhaps it was better this way, but still, it angered him to no end. He fought as much as he could, given his circumstances, and yet Orsino knew that there were still those who believed he merely laid on the ground, a mat for the Templar filth to walk over, to crush them down further than they already lay.

He reached his desk, staff still slung across his back, a scroll clenched tightly in his fist. A deep sigh escaped his lips, leaning against the surface, and his free hand reached to pinch the bridge of his now, in hops that it would, somehow, alleviate his pain. The scroll, no doubt, help the contents of the girl's punishment; dread weighed upon him at the thought of reading it. She was twelve! The mere mention of Tranquility for a girl her age…

A clamorous knock against his window caused the mage to start, his eyes flashing to the curtains that barred whomever disturbed him from view. The scroll fell onto the desk's surface, his hand coming to a rest over his racing heart, reaching quickly for his staff. It was instinct; there was no way he would be able to defend himself without them crying wolf, claiming he antagonized them, yet there was still the matter of intimidation the First Enchanter held over the Templar recruits. Regardless of his position, he was a powerful mage, and easily feared among many–namely those who believed the lies spread by the Order to instill fear. Still, he could not help to wonder what idiot Templar harassed him at this hour; no doubt Orsino's dispute with Meredith had traveled the ranks quickly, and the younger among them took great joy in bothering the elder elf.

With a deep, weary sigh, the First Enchanter carried himself to the window with a proud gait, shoulders squared and staff in hand, shoulders squared in attempt to deter the Templars who, no doubt, came for him. Curtains drawn, he wrenched them open, expecting a congregation of idiots grandstanding around him like slavers around their catch. However, to his great surprise, he was met with a bright-eyed woman, her lips curved into a devious smirk as a pile of unconscious Templars lay on the ground at her feet.

Was was surprise was now replaced with horror as he realized what Hawke had done, and though the sun had long since fallen, the moonlight was just enough for her to see his reaction. She did not seem perturbed, and Hawke's grin only widened when he unlatched the locks, throwing the window open, an exasperated hand running over his brow. He should have known this would happen sooner or later; since meeting the Champion, he could tell that she was trouble, and though the deepest parts of him delighted in her company–come to light not weeks ago when he had taken her in his office–he couldn't help but to wonder if her company would bring more trouble. Trouble he was more than happy to deal with, but trouble nonetheless.

"Maker, Champion, do you have any idea what you've done?" he wheezed, standing aside to allow her entry. Though his features still remained slightly panicked, emerald eyes darting around the courtyard beyond her to check for any signs of trouble, his lips curved into a slight smile when she threw her leg over the sill, easing herself in. She sat on the ledge, legs kicking against the wall below, her eyes alight in slight mischief as Orsino shook his head in disbelief.

"Not really, no, First Enchanter," she replied cheekily, and he huffed with a roll of his eyes, taking her by the arm and pulling her inward. She landed with a slight grunt, and she rocked on her feet as he latched the windows behind her, muttering indistinctly to himself. "Honestly, I thought I was doing you a favor, you know. News travels quickly, and lucky for you, I was handing off some misleading information to some of the Templars when I heard about your little argument."

Her eyes darted to the scroll laying on the desk, her brow raising curiously, before she cast her gaze back to Orsino. He was weary, that much was obvious, and as he turned from the window, after pulling the curtains, he sighed defeatedly, laying his staff upon his desk.

"I appreciate the thought, Hawke, but with the Templars lying unconscious outside my chamber window, there's bound to be some discussion as to how I managed to knock them all out without so much as a blink of my eye." He finally brought his gaze to hers, and another sigh fell from his lips before managing an exhausted smile. "It is good to see you."

"I thought so," she quipped with a smirk, reaching up to pinch his cheek. Though he expected it, Orsino still swatted at her hand with a snort, and rolling her eyes, she relented, instead resting a hand on his shoulder. "Maker's balls, Orsino, you look exhausted."

"Exhausted is an understatement," he replied distractedly, striding in front of her, drawing himself closer to the bed across the room. Nimble fingers worked to undo the outermost layer of his robes, and as he shrugged out of it, Hawke clambered onto his desk, gingerly moving his staff aside, taking the scroll he had dropped into her hands. "I feel as though my body hasn't known rest since my birth, if I'm completely honest."

"I'll say," she replied, the mirth on her features slipping away, only to be replaced by slight concern. He was looking far haggard than she'd seen him recently, and as aware as she was to the rising tensions between the mages and Templars, Hawke could not blame him. "When's the last you slept through the night?"

Dropping his robes onto the sitting chair near his bed, he cast her a glance from over his shoulder, a dark smirk curving his lips. "I dare say, I believe it was the night you met with me the first time, Hawke. I don't think I've slept so soundly in my life."

It took a moment to realize what he meant, and though a knowing smile lifted her lips, she still couldn't help the rosy dusting her cheeks seemed to take on when he spoke. "I'll remember that," she replied with a quirk of her brows. "If it helps you sleep, then I'm more than willing to oblige you." Her voice was teasing, expression coy as she spoke, and though she knew neither of them had any intentions to act upon it, she reached up to unlatch the armor protecting her chest and shoulder, careful to not make a sound as the metal reached the floor. It got in the way too often, and it was rather annoying when not in combat. Hawke figured that in the hush of the night, she wouldn't need it all that much.

"And how many times do I have to tell you: I have a name, you can use it," she continued with a wrinkle of her nose. "Nobody actually calls me Lilith, you know. It'd be nice to hear it once in awhile; I almost forget I have one!"

"And I forget that you willingly come to see me as a friend, rather than the Champion."

Hawke snorted, shaking her head as amusement danced across her features. "I think we've made it a little past the friend stage, Orsino. Or do I have to remind you?"

A thoughtful smile crossed his lips as he finally faced her, stretching his back, and even from his desk, Lilith could hear his bones crack and pop. "I may just have to take you up on that, my dear."

A pleased grin lifted her features, though it did not quite reach her eyes. They were still concerned, and the longer she watched him, the more worried she seemed to become. After a moment, her grin fell, and she scooted herself to the edge of the desk, watching him closely. "I agree," she began slowly, nibbling on her lip in thought. "But that's not why I'm here, and you know that." A pause. "Orsino, are you alright?"

It was then that he truly allowed his weariness to show through and his shoulders, once squared and proud, finally slumped, his feet dragging across the floor wearily toward her. His hands settled upon his desk next to her, and a deep, pained sigh fell from his lips. Hawke hardly ever saw him like this, and she slid from the desk, standing closely behind him. She hesitated for a moment before placing her hand on his shoulder, and though she felt him stiffen slightly beneath her touch, it lasted only a second before he glanced at her, his jaw brushing against the back of her hand.

"I'm not," he groaned, and his eyes fluttered shut, a pained expression working its way across his face. "Maker's balls, I'm far from it." His voice was just as wounded as he appeared, and with a sad sigh, Hawke rested her head against his back, her arms wrapping around his torso from behind. It was all she could do; she had an advantage to all of this, being an apostate from the outside, but he was of the Circle, and the hammer the Templars brought down upon them was steadily draining them of what will they had left.

"What happened?" she asked softly, and Orsino's hand lifted from the desk, resting gently over both of hers. "With the Templars snickering outside of your window, I doubt it could have been anything good."

"Same shit, different day, " he growled, his normally calm and thoughtful voice colored with a desperate bitterness Hawke was not accustomed to. "The harder I fight, the tighter Meredith pulls on our leash."

A silence fell upon them, and as Orsino straightened back up, she pulled away, allowing him the space he needed. He was grateful for it; since Lara's hearing, hands had been wrapped around his arms, on his shoulders, barring him from even raising a hand. Of course, he didn't mind her touch–in fact, he welcomed it when he could. Whatever he and the Champion had–a complete secret, due to their precarious positions–made the years since the Viscount's death more bearable, and not a moment too soon. Meredith had usurped the position for herself, straining the already rocky relationship between the Templars and mages, instilling fear into the people of Kirkwall to keep her position. There was little he could do to keep his people safe; no matter what, Meredith found fault and blood magic with Orsino's mages, and more and more were succumbing to Tranquility, no matter what he did.

Still, he could not help but to wonder why him. Why she started it all. Part of it was out of spite; Hawke had made it quite clear that Templars were no friends of hers, and since her first visit, she had not made any attempts to keep herself hushed. It had started out completely physical; while he would have never taken her for someone interested in such an arrangement, nor he for that matter, as time drew on, urged by the deepest desires of their mortal flesh, their situation grew into much more than the physicality of it all. Templars pointedly avoided his gaze when he emerged most mornings, having hovered outside his door the night before, and it gave him satisfaction to no end to see their discomfort when he passed them by, a proud spring to his step and a smug expression resting on his weathered features.

But it wasn't all physical, Maker, it was far from it. Though it was a dangerous affair, Hawke always managed to find her way in once a week, skillfully avoiding Templars and sending them off in the opposite direction with a mischievous glee known only to her. Every time she managed to throw herself into his window, there was always something pertaining to the freedom of the mages she brought with her. It was how it began, to be truthful–she had delivered a scroll of names sympathetic to their cause, in the darkness of the night, adrenaline rushing through both their veins at the prospect of being caught, and one thing led to another. Her body beneath his, glistening, writhing, his name falling from his lips in a wanton moan–

Shaking his head quickly, he turned on his heel, striding to his bed to clear his thoughts, pausing only to gently caress Hawke beneath her chin, tapping the tip of her nose with a long, slender finger. A stupid, girly grin lifted her features as she jumped back onto the desk, though not seconds later, her expression grew somber again, when he collapsed on his bed, eyes absently staring at the ceiling.

Picking up the scroll again, Hawked finger traced over the wax seal, Meredith's insignia, one that she had recognized instantly. She picked slightly at it, though made no further move to break the seal, instead fixing her gaze on Orsino, whose weariness seemed to wash over him tenfold. "What's this about then, Orsino? What what so bad that it spread so quickly?"

"A pupil of mine," he replied, eyes still boring into the ceiling, as though searching for an elusive answer to his greatest question. "She was caught, days back, trying to escape the Circle. It was her first attempt, and she hadn't been deemed unstable in the least. She's quite bright, and knows her studies like the back of her hand. A prodigy even, at twelve! And yet they expect the worst of her, blood magic and all."

"Well, shit." Hawke was well aware of the weight of the situation, and what kind of position it placed Orsino in, but hell, she hadn't known how far it had come, not from the inside. "Do you have any idea what might happen to her? I've been seeing more and more Tranquil since…"

"I know," he groaned wearily, casting his gaze to her. "The scroll you have, it will give you the answer you're looking for, Lilith." He paused, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "I fought, for hours, against Tranquility as a possible punishment. It was daylight when I entered, and well into the night when I left. Lara had never caused any trouble before; I wouldn't be surprised if it was the Templars that finally drove her to try and escaped." Suddenly, both hands were on his face, the balls of his hands rubbing his eyes distractedly. "She's twelve…to even bring up Tranquility, let alone use it on a child…it's abhorrent."

"It's bullshit," she hissed, picking at the seal of the scroll, sitting, cross-legged, on the desk. "Even so, we need to see what's going on to happen to her, if there's any hope of helping her."

"I can't bring myself to read it. If Tranquility is to, indeed, be her punishment, then I have failed to protect her from the tyranny of the Templars." A heavy silence fell between them when Orsino turned away, broken only by Hawke tearing open the scroll.

"Anders and I are working to secure the Mage Underground again," Hawke said, her brows knitting together as her eyes flitted across the parchment. "Meredith's making it damn harder than hell, but we're managing. We've gotten a few safely out of Kirkwall, but there's only so much we can do until it's trampled out again."

"Hm," he mused, glancing at the woman on his desk, trying to garner any sort of insight as to what the scroll's contents held. However, other than concentration, he could gather nothing, and the stress continued to weigh heavily upon him. Half of him wanted to cross the room and take the scroll from her hands; the other half was content to remain there, in the dark, too fearful to realize his failure as a protector once again.

"She reminds me of you," he finally said, and Hawke's bright eyes flickered to Orsino, a brow raising in question.

"So, what, charming and witty? With a great sense of humor?" she asked, her lips twitching into a slight grin.

"I don't know about all of that, now," he replied cheekily, lifting himself into a sitting position, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed. "She has your fire, though. Your passion for freedom and to help those who truly need it. And I suppose your humor is there as well; there's never a moment where she isn't testing my patience with her wit."

"She sounds perfect," she laughed with a wink, before casting her gaze back to the parchment. "Thankfully, you won't have to worry about Tranquility; it says here that she'll be under constant surveillance until further notice, but it looks like even Meredith can be reasoned with, once in awhile."

Orsino sighed in relief at Hawke's revelation, and he rose slowly to his feet, running both hands through his greying hair. Setting the scroll aside, her legs dangled over the desk, and the First Enchanter rested his hands on the surface, on either side of her hips, brow resting on her shoulder. She leaned her cheek against his head, hand coming to massage his neck gently, reaching out to him with the other. As though he had sensed her, Orsino's hand met hers, catching it in his grasp, long fingers wrapping around it delicately.

"Hardly," he replied into her shoulder. "Once Lara comes of age, I can guarantee you, they will make her Tranquil, and I will be just as helpless to watch as they do it."

"Not if I can help it," she murmured gently. "We'll get her out of Kirkwall yet, and leave this place far behind."

"I hope you're right, Lilith." Rising, his eyes fixed on Hawke's, his hand resting on the side of her head, fingers tangling in her dark hair. The tip of his nose pressed against hers, eyes closing lazily, and a soft laugh escaped her lips as her legs coyly wrapped around his, effectively forcing him nearer to her. He didn't mind, of course; Hawke had become an emotional support when he did not expect one, and her fire only continued to ignite that which inspired his cause to help his people.

"You are something, Lilith Hawke, you know that?"

"Naturally," she replied with a grin, her eyes fluttering shut. "Something good, I hope."

"Better than that, if I'm honest," he added huskily, his arm wrapping around her waist. His hand entangled further into her hair, and Lilith's hands reached for his face, fingers tracing along his jawline gently.

"I think I'll stay tonight," she mused, teaching her lips against his. "Maker knows you need it, and I don't exactly feel like trying to fight my way through Templars again so soon."

He didn't bother answering her. The first chance he got, Orsino captured Hawke's lips with his own, kissing her deeply, hungrily. He could feel her smile through the kiss, the only thought in his mind that if anything was worth being in this hellhole, it was her…


End file.
